You know what I don’t want to bring home from the office? No, I don’t mind bringing a little work with me to finish up at home. As a diligent and dedicated worker bee, I know that the job sometimes calls for that kind of thing. What I don’t want to bring home from work is pestilence and disease. So why the hell do dumbasses bring it to the office with them? That’s right friends, I’m here to tell you about the sick dumbass.

Look, we all appreciate someone who is willing to tough things out to get the job done on time. I don’t want you to think that if you have the sniffles you should be using your sick days. What I’m trying to say is that if you are hacking up your lungs, sneezing up a storm and otherwise look and feel like death warmed over, and you can do whatever you’re doing remotely from home, fucking do it from the comfort of your own home where the only people you can get sick are people you’ve been getting sick your entire life (family, roommates, etc).

I ride the train an hour every day to and from work. I sit packed like a sardine on the Metro North every morning and evening. I then get off the train and have to walk through Grand Central Station, one of the most populated transportation hubs in the country, if not the world. Then, I have to walk through the streets of New York City to get to my office. That means I am exposed to probably billions of nasty germs throughout my day. Now, if I somehow make it through all that without getting sick, and some idiot at the office gives me the black death… “Wayne Brady might have to choke a bitch.”

We all know that, once you’ve brought tuberculosis into the office, there’s literally nothing I can do to stop it from infecting me. Sure, I can buy an industrial-sized bottle of hand sanitizer and douse myself with it every fifteen minutes. I can even use my Seventh Generation Disinfecting Wipes (That’s right, The Smartguy is eco-conscious) to wipe down every inch of my desk. Inevitably, it won’t matter. Your stupid ass is going to get me sick.

It would be socially unacceptable for me to suddenly start taping Saran wrap around my cubicle, put tissue boxes on my feet, or just start spraying Lysol in the direction of the sick dumbass, so there go those preventative measures too. If I show up to the office wearing one of those breathing masks that people in Japan wear to protect them from SARS, I’m the weirdo. Isn’t that funny? You, however, can bring whatever polio you have with you to the office and sit next to me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Instead, I just have to sit here in my bubble cubicle, with my hand sanitizer, holding my breath under my SARS mask, tissue boxes on my feet while spraying Lysol in and living in fear. Thanks, dumbass! I’ve always wanted feline AIDS!

image courtesy of: http://hierophyte.blogspot.com